


A Different Kind of Magic

by bookowl2000



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Azure Moon - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Hinted Sylvain/Mercedes, I want it to snow now tbh, Post Time-Skip, We thank Sylvain for his efforts, Winter, cozy vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28482291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookowl2000/pseuds/bookowl2000
Summary: Felix gets a different evening than he bargained for when he seeks out Annette.For the Secret Seteth netteflix gift exchange!
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 16
Kudos: 31
Collections: Netteflix Secret Seteth 2020





	A Different Kind of Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TooGoodToBeBad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooGoodToBeBad/gifts).



> This is my Secret Seteth for TooGoodToBeBad, whose prompt was "stupidly fluffy, awkward, winter, hot soup, and Azure Moon." It was a lot of fun to write and I hope you enjoy!

Felix leaned against the entrance to the dining hall, indifferent to the light flurry of snow swirling around him. He wanted to take a moment to enjoy the melody that drifted over to him, trying to decipher how much of it was nonsensical and how much was a part of the recipe he could tell Annette was cooking.

He hadn’t come to dawdle outside though, even if entering meant Annette would stop singing. As he slipped inside the red-headed mage came into view, swaying in her spot and singing as she stirred the contents of a pot.

Annette’s dancing wasn’t by any means graceful—not that Felix was any judge of that—but something about her uncoordinated, joyful movements made him smile.

He considered calling out to her, but was hesitant to startle Annette when doing so could spell disaster. On the other hand, if he didn’t announce himself, she’d surely accuse him of eavesdropping.

Luckily for him, a window of opportunity presented itself when Annette stepped aside—far enough away from the boiling pot—to grab some salt.

“Do you have a song for every meal you cook?” he asked. 

“Bah!” Annette exclaimed, turning around. Her cheeks reddened instantly once she saw him, and she fiddled with the jar in her hands. 

“Do you always have to find me when I’m singing?” she retorted.

“I don’t mean too, but I don’t mind it either,” he answered honestly, looking away as he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. 

“Of course _you_ don’t,” Annette said, and although she feigned annoyance, Felix could tell she was failing to suppress her smile.

He couldn’t deny the surge of satisfaction that arised knowing she seemed less hesitant with her songs around him after their last meeting in the library. Part of him had been worried her agreeing to sing was just a fluke, but maybe there was hope she’d be willing too again.

“Oh,” Annette said, pulling him out of his thoughts, “is that snow on your hair?” 

Felix shook his head slightly, feeling the partially melted flakes disperse around him. “It started not long ago,” he confirmed.

“How exciting,” Annette squealed, “but you must be cold. Come back here, I’ve built up the fire.” 

He was from Faerghus, the current measly dusting of snow paled in comparison to the blizzards he grew up with. 

“I’m not cold,” Felix replied, even as he slipped through the small opening to the back of the dining hall, where the stoves were. 

He followed Annette as she practically bounced to the pot, which they both peered into.

“I’m making soup for Mercie,” she explained.

The rich scent of chicken and ginger wafted over. “It smells good,” Felix said. 

Annette startled him when she grabbed his arm and hugged his side. Felix looked down at her with wide eyes, suddenly unable to form a coherent thought. 

“Oh really?” She exclaimed, letting go to resume her stirring, nonchalant while Felix was still dumbstruck. “I was so worried, because Mercie told me this was what her mom used to make her whenever she was sick, and she used to make it for me whenever I wasn’t feeling well, and now I want to make it for her but I’m scared I’ll ruin it.”

Felix eyed the soup, which didn’t seem charred or the wrong consistency. That was promising for Annette. The only issue he could note was that the pot was nearly full, enough to feed their entire class.

Which would normally be ideal, but they had already eaten a while ago.

“Is Mercedes going to eat all of that?”

“No!” Annette replied vehemently, shooting him a glare. It faltered easily, though, as her visage became sheepish. “I may have gotten distracted with my chopping song and prepared too much. I feel bad for wasting rations, but Ingrid will help finish it anyways, I’m sure.”

Felix snorted, imaging his childhood friend barging into the dining hall once she caught a whiff of the chicken. “You can count on that.”

They shared knowing smiles, but then Annette propped herself against the counter, staring up at him inquisitively.

“So, what are you doing here, Felix?” she asked.

Felix paused, considering the events that led him to the dining hall. He had been leaving Seteth’s office when he found Sylvain skidding out of the infirmary, looking serious (a rare occurrence, even during battle) as he held a draught in his hands.

“What’s wrong?” he had asked. 

Sylvain informed him that Mercedes had fallen ill with a cold, and Annette was in the kitchen preparing a light broth for her, as she had no appetite for the heavy meal served that day.

So Felix went to find Annette.

He realized he couldn’t think of a valid reason to tell her, especially not one for the boy who insisted his only goal was to hone his strength until his skills surpassed those of any opponent.

But that wasn’t something he was willing to admit to Annette, not when he didn’t understand the implications himself.

“I heard you were cooking alone. Someone had to make sure you didn’t burn down the kitchen,” he quipped, providing an answer close enough to the truth.

“Felix,” she groaned, “that’s so not fair. I haven’t caused any serious catastrophes since our Academy days.”

“What do you call last month’s incident with the—”

“Nope, nope, I don’t want to hear it,” Annette replied, covering her ears. “You’re so evil, Felix.”

Annette turned her nose upwards and stomped away, but the effect was ruined as she tried and failed to reach for a spice in the cabinets. Felix couldn’t help his smirk as he moved to stand behind Annette, extending his arm to grab it for her.

“I didn’t need your help,” she exclaimed indignantly, whirling around to face him. 

The movement made it instantly clear to the both of them that there was hardly a hair of space between them. They leaped apart, Felix unable to look at her and Annette stammering unintelligibly.

He held his arm ramrod straight towards her. “Here.”

Annette plucked it out of his hands—Felix dimly noting that she had taken care to prevent their fingers from brushing together—without a word. They were spared from any further awkwardness when Sylvain bounded into the room.

Felix wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse, not trusting the sudden twinkle of amusement he saw in Sylvain’s eyes.

“Felix! What a pleasant surprise finding you here,” Sylvain said with exaggerated gusto as he sauntered over to the counter. “I hope he’s not bothering you, Annette. Say the word and I’ll drag him out of here.”

Curse. Definitely a curse. He never should have contemplated otherwise.

“No,” Annette replied sharply, surprising the both of them, before mellowing her tone, “I mean, no he isn’t.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, two spots of pink appearing on her cheeks.

Sylvain smiled widely, and Felix inexplicably felt the tips of his ears warm.

“How’s Mercie doing?” Annette asked, her voice pitched marginally higher.

Sylvain grimaced. “She’s tired. The cold weather isn’t helping matters, either.” 

“Hopefully the soup will help warm her up a bit,” Annette replied, worriedly wringing her hands. Then her expression became more determined, and she planted her hands firmly on the counter, her fiery gaze boring into Sylvain’s.

“Sylvain, you must remain vigilant,” she said seriously.

Felix tensed, wondering if there was a threat at the monastery he was unaware of. Annette really shouldn’t have been cooking alone then, she’d be the perfect distracted target. His hand drifted towards the hilt of his sword, trying to determine if he had seen any strange activity throughout the day.

“Mercie will try to do chores or any work that will get her out of bed, using the excuse her cold is mild,” she continued. “But we don’t know if it will get worse, and if she exhausts herself it definitely will. You have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

He should have known Annette hadn’t meant an external threat.

“You have my word,” Sylvain swore, “Mercedes will get proper rest.”

“Good,” Annette replied cheerfully, her smile returning. 

Felix marveled at how her mood changed so easily. He wouldn’t acknowledge—not even to himself—how often he got sidetracked watching her expressive features shuffle wildly. 

The swordsman stood silently as Annette conversed with Sylvain, before she turned around to tend to the dish. When his and Sylvain’s eyes met, his friend shot him a pointed look paired with an irritating smirk.

Leaning towards him, Sylvain whispered, “You wasted no time coming here, huh?”

Felix felt his face heat up, glancing back quickly to make sure Annette hadn’t heard. Sylvain was infuriating, and Felix tried to convey his ire with a piercing glare.

Of course, Sylvain showed no remorse, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. 

Felix scoffed, turning away to grab a tray and utensils before placing them next to Annette. _He_ would be of use, at least. 

“Thank you, Felix,” she said, her bright smile causing his heart to flip. 

“Uh, it’s nothing,” he muttered, quickly turning away and bumping his leg painfully against a cabinet handle. 

Sylvain snickered behind him, and Felix withheld a stream of curses.

Annette prepared two steaming bowls for Sylvain and Mercedes, handing the former the tray. Her parting words were a mix of advice, concerns, and threats, and Sylvain listened dutifully.

Right when Felix was starting to believe there was hope for Sylvain, the man winked at him and said, “Enjoy yourselves.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be,” Felix replied sharply, glowering at Sylvain’s now retreating figure. He’d never learn.

“Would you like some?” Annette asked from behind him.

Felix’s brows furrowed. When had she moved? “Some what?” 

“Soup! But only if you’d like to eat of course,” she said in a rush. “I know we ate earlier, and you’d probably rather train—”

“I’ll have some,” he replied, cutting her off.

Annette’s grin was pleased as she went to scoop the broth into bowls, and Felix held no regrets. He could always train later.

Once she finished, she plopped herself down on the floor next to the hearth. “It’s so cold, I hope you don’t mind if we eat here,” Annette said.

“Sure,” Felix replied, unbuckling his shoulder guard and sword sheaths. 

“What are you doing?” Annette squeaked. 

“Taking my coat off. It’ll be too hot with it on by the fire.”

He lifted his head up to look at Annette, who didn’t meet his eyes, looking at—or at the point behind?—his shoulders. He turned around, but found nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Oh-oh alright, whatever makes you comfortable,” she said, placing his bowl on the floor near hers.

With a shrug, Felix set his coat aside, opting to bring one sword with him.

He seated himself next to Annette, cognizant of the minute space between them that lessened even more as she shifted towards the fire—and him.

Annette hugged her bowl and sighed happily. Felix could only watch with confused amusement.

“I really do love winter,” she said. “Everything is cozy and warm—”

“Everything except outside?”

“Felix,” she grumbled. “But yes, hot drinks and soup are the best remedy for a cold day. And nothing beats reading while huddled up in a big, poofy blanket.”

“I guess it’s good you’re from Faerghus, then,” Felix mused.

Annette nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely. I hope Garreg Mach gets a decent amount of snow this year. It was so disappointing back when we were students when nothing stuck.”

Felix could understand her liking the comforts of the indoors during the season, but what was so appealing about snow? It made movement and training infinitely more difficult, so to Felix it was a hindrance he unfortunately had to tolerate. 

“Why does it matter to you so much?”

Annette gasped as if he had betrayed them to fight with Edelgard. “Felix, snow is magical. I’m sure you have some fun memories, you were a kid once.”

“Yeah, a long time ago,” Felix muttered, spinning his spoon languidly. Glenn had loved pelting him with snowballs, eventually getting Ingrid to join his side. Sylvain would declare war as he enthusiastically rallied Dmitri and Felix.

Felix was unfortunately useless if the surprise attack made him cry.

“I hope you find a reason to enjoy it again,” Annette said solemnly, dragging him out of his memories and shocking him. Somehow, he had expected a different response. 

Annette changed the subject, animatedly telling him about her time at the School of Sorcery or a child she met at the marketplace. Felix was content with listening, finishing the admittedly delicious soup Annette had prepared.

Later, as a comfortable silence lapsed between them, Annette looked away, seemingly lost in her thoughts. Part of her capelet was spread like a makeshift blanket across her lap, and her hair erratically spilled around her shoulders. 

Something about the sight, the relaxed ambience of their evening, made Felix realize he wanted… more days like this. He felt more peaceful than he probably had in years. 

Idleness, comfort, slowing down—all were things he never prioritized when he had his training and the war to focus on. But with Annette it seemed… worthwhile. 

Suddenly he could imagine them elsewhere; Annette seated on a lush carpet instead, a thick quilt wrapped around her as the flames of a fireplace flickered in her eyes. Her radiant smile was unchanged, as was the way her eyes crinkled with delight. 

Why was that—

“Swords!” Annette cried, startling him.

“Huh. What about them?” Felix asked.

“Oh, so now you answer. I said your name twice and not a peep from you.”

Felix shifted in his spot. He never _meant_ to get distracted around Annette. 

“Uh, sorry.”

Annette observed him, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “I wonder if you caught whatever Mercie has.”

Felix frowned, planning to tell her he was definitely not sick (he abhorred being sick) when the words died in his throat.

Annette had leaned forward and placed a hand on his knee, steadying herself as the other rested on his forehead. 

“Hm, you’re a little warm, but that’s probably only because of the fire,” she said.

A little warm? It felt like her hands were burning holes into his skin where she was touching him.

Annette lowered her raised arm and looked down at him. A soft gasp left her lips, and time seemed to still as they stared at each other.

Her face was inches away from his; he could easily count the smattering of freckles that dotted her cheeks. Felix’s senses were overwhelmed, unable to decide if they should register her floral scent or radiating warmth or bright blue eyes or the hand that _still_ rested on his knee.

Annette suddenly scrambled backwards, her face rapidly reddening to match her hair. “S-sorry,” she stammered, “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s…” he trailed off in return.

Annette jumped up. “I’ll go make tea.” 

She scurried to the other side of the kitchen, leaving Felix alone. He didn’t necessarily want tea, but he wasn’t going to stop her. 

The room was too quiet, the only sounds elicited by the dying embers of the hearth, and Felix’s restlessness eventually forced him up as well.

“I’ll see what’s going on outside,” he said. 

As he approached the door, Felix saw that snow had drifted in. The Academy had transformed from earlier, now enveloped in a white powdery blanket, its height surprising him. How long had he and Annette been inside?

He leaned forward, the biting cold reminding him of his forgotten coat. He wondered how Annette would react to the news.

After checking to see if anyone else was outdoors, he shuffled back and sent their bowls to the sink, watching Annette pour their tea into mugs. 

“Your wish came true,” he told her. “Garreg Mach is covered in snow.”

Annette squealed, rushing towards him as she held their cups. Felix was concerned about her burning herself, but she paid him and his attempts to calm her movements no mind as she haphazardly set their tea down and grabbed their coats. 

“Come on, we can drink outside,” she said, hauling him out while he was still pulling on the second sleeve. He was powerless to say no, not when her free hand was pulling his and her joy was infectious. 

“Maybe you’ll think differently about the snow once you see it with a different perspective,” she said, turning back to him with a hopeful grin.

Annette released him, and he made sure to take her mug from her before she ran out. Annette giggled as she spun, her arms spread widely to welcome the still falling snow. 

She slowed down dizzily, her countenance was delighted as she faced him. 

“Can’t you see, Felix?” She turned to bring his attention to a faraway ledge, pointing at icicles that had formed underneath. She then motioned towards the frozen lake and white trees.

“Winter transforms the world,” she concluded. With an added flare, she used a wind spell to lift a pile of snow, letting it spin around her like the path of a bird. “It’s enchanting.”

Felix agreed.

He felt the magic Annette so dearly claimed the winter world held reflected in her dazzling eyes, reddened nose and cheeks, and the flakes that contrasted against her fiery hair. Had she succeeded in changing his outlook on snow, or was it her he was seeing in a different light?

He shuffled forward to hand Annette her tea, not trusting himself to speak. They sipped their drinks and leaned against the railing. Soon after, Annette yawned and rested her head against his arm, and this time Felix didn’t jump away. 

“Thanks for being here Felix. I had a lovely evening,” Annette said.

“I did too,” he whispered, his heart hammering against his chest. 

Felix knew it was late, and that they should probably return to their dorms. He wondered if Annette lingered for the same reasons he did, content to enjoy whatever spell had been casted over this day to the last possible second.


End file.
